


The King of Second Chancing

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [208]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: High School AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Music Is My Boyfriend challenge.  ciiriianan asked for Spock/McCoy, 13 (Marianas Trench - Here’s To The Zeros)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King of Second Chancing

Spock raised an eyebrow and closed his locker, checking the lock carefully before he turned and followed the yelling, heckling crowd.  The trail ended at the bleachers, where one of the assistant coaches held McCoy by the scruff of his collar, and had his finger in the face of another boy who was looking fairly unperturbed by the scolding.

Spock may have not been living with his maternal grandparents long, but he had become adept in interpreting that particularly  _human_  expression, and made a mental note to whisk McCoy away as soon as possible.

For his part, Mr McCoy seemed remarkably resistant to being  _whisked_  anywhere.  “I surmise that Mr Ripley seeks to do you bodily harm now that school has ended for the day,” Spock tried to reason with him.

McCoy was bristling, scowling even as he pulled his now-torn jacket tighter around his slim form.  But he was walking, away from school and the violence that seemed to permeate the place whenever the adults in authority did not go.  “Mr Ripley,” McCoy snarled in a mocking sneer.  “Can go straight to hell.”

The concept, while not as visceral as it was for his human fellow students, was one he now understood contextually after developing an association with Mr McCoy.  It was one of his favoured epithets.  “And Mr Ripley’s crime?”

McCoy kept his eyes on the pavement.  “He called you a green-blooded freak,” he muttered quietly, as if he didn’t wish Spock to hear.

Spock was growing tired of always being confused; his father had sent him here to learn his heritage, and all Spock really understood after all these months was that humans were…frustratingly complex.  “We both know that is a common claim against my presence here.  You also called me a green-blooded freak, as I recall.”

McCoy’s head snapped up.  “Yeah, Spock. But that was  _me_.  He’s just a jackass.”

Spock spent the rest of the silent walk to McCoy’s home wondering exactly how that statement made so much sense.


End file.
